"This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly, than ever before." - Leonard Bernstein
(thanks to fellow organist Jan Kraybill for posting this quote on her Facebook page.)
I think the Bernstein quote was in the context of the late 1960's, another troubled time in many respects. For a fuller response from Bernstein to one part of that time, here is a YouTube of his "Kaddish Symphony," written after the assassination of J. F. Kennedy. The Kaddish is the Jewish prayer of mourning.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Sunday, July 3, 2016
RSCM and Independence Day
Today, the closing Evensong from the RSCM Carolina Course for Girls was live-streamed here. I do not know if they will later post it on YouTube, nor how long this link will remain active.
The Evensong was at the Chapel of Duke University, a place I once knew well. I had intended to listen to a few minutes of it as I worked in the office. That intention lasted through the organ preludes – two of them, one on each of the big instruments in that room. Then came the procession, to an organ improvisation. Watching the choristers come down the aisle was overwhelming; I was an emotional wreck, and they had not even begun to sing.
For many years, I took girls to this Course when it was at Agnes Scott College in Atlanta with services at St. Phillip’s Cathedral. We would load up in the church’s fifteen-passenger Blue Van, an old Ford that had seen its better days, and off we would go down the highway and over the mountains. Among all of these accomplished choristers (and directors), we felt like country bumpkins, for our little program back in Tennessee was not at the standard of places like St. Phillip’s, or some of the other churches who sent choristers. Many of the churches from those days are represented at this year’s course, though not the place where I served. One of the first acts of my successors was to dismantle the RSCM program and replace it with a more traditional graded-choir program. Nonetheless, three of my girls went to the next summer’s Atlanta course on their own, and sent me a photo. I still have it.
I learned a lot at this Course, and its companion Course for boys at Christ Church, Charlotte. It was in these weeks that I became a real Choirmaster, from the example of the music directors and choristers in their work together. I took copious notes – I still have these, too. I went home with my girls and boys and we all tried to live up to the standard of what we had experienced. Year by year, little by little, we became a better choir.
That remains my experience, and I think that of our choristers here in Iowa. And year by year, little by little, we are becoming a better choir.
Three weeks from now, it is our turn: Choral Evensong at First Presbyterian Church, Kirkwood on Saturday, July 23 and Mass at the Basilica of Saint Louis the next morning.
-----------
Tomorrow is July 4, Independence Day for this country. One year at the Atlanta Course, which has always been pretty much at this time of the summer, Independence Day was near the end of the week. There at Agnes Scott, we had an outdoor barbecue for the occasion. It was relaxed, one of those long summer evenings in Georgia which are like nothing else under the sun. The girls were carrying on like choristers do at every Course, having a great time. One of the teenagers was telling her friends how she had sung the National Anthem at an Atlanta Braves baseball game a few weeks before. She talked about how scared she was, vomiting in the bathroom shortly before she went out to sing, just her by herself in front of all those thousands of people, unaccompanied. “It went like this,” she said, and she started to sing…
It is hard to be patriotic. Most of the time, for most of us, July 4 is little more than a day for a cookout and some fireworks, a day off from work. But there is something more to it. That evening in Atlanta, we all felt it.
Today we had a service of readings and hymns for Independence Day. I was not looking forward to it; coming back from a vacation, I ended up with one day’s preparation, and even for that, I had trouble dragging myself upstairs to the bench to do the work. Worst of all, I had committed to improvising a prelude.
Nothing would come. Partly, it was rustiness from the time off, but partly, my heart was not in it. I did not want to do any of these hymns; I did not want to even show up for church the next day.
But this morning found me on the bench, bright and early. After practicing the hymns, I worked at the organ for an hour or so on the improvisation, searching for ideas. People started to arrive, so I moved downstairs to the piano in the choir room. Still, I had nothing more than a vague plan: “America the beautiful” (which was the opening hymn) in G dorian/minor moving to major. But it was going a little better at the piano than it had at the organ.
It was not until I was upstairs, putting on my organ shoes, that I knew what to do; I went to the piano instead of the organ.
I began to play. And I began to think of what I had seen over the last fortnight -- the places I had visited out East, and in Springfield, Illinois… I thought of Mr. Lincoln, sitting in the telegraph office at the White House brooding over the casualty lists coming in from places like Chickamauga and the Wilderness and Cold Harbor. I thought of Mr. Lee, resting in his tomb down at Lexington. I thought of the soldiers at the Chosin Reservoir that December of 1950, the temperatures more than thirty below zero, outnumbered four to one as the “volunteers” from the People’s Liberation Army came at them in human wave assaults.
Most Americans have forgotten that war, which may be the finest and noblest thing that we have done as a nation, fighting alongside the South Koreans and our United Nations allies -- the British, the Canadians, the Australians, many others -- a brigade from Turkey played a key role at Chosin. But this day, I remembered. This was for them, and for Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Lee, and all those men of both sides at Chickamauga and the Wilderness and Cold Harbor, and all the others, right down to the present. They cared about this country, and we ought to care a little bit, too.
It is not a great recording; the microphone was positioned by the organ instead of underneath the piano as it usually is for the pieces that I post. But here it is.
I hope that it evidences one of the lessons I learned from RSCM Courses, more from the choristers than the directors and adults – connection. I heard it this afternoon in the singing of the choristers at the Duke Chapel, and I felt it this morning in the improvisation, a lot more than I expected. Connection does not always communicate to the listeners, but a lack of connection certainly will.
One of the photos on the YouTube track is obvious. The other will not be to most: It is Lt. Col. Don Carlos Faith, Jr., commanding the unit RCT-31 in the Chosin Reservoir campaign (after his superior officer had been killed). I like it that after being presented with a Silver Star on the battlefield after days of heavy fighting, he threw it into the snow in disgust upon being ordered to continue the offensive. And then he went on and kept his unit intact though surrounded by six Chinese regiments. He died at Hill 1221, leading an assault on a Chinese position blocking their only possible escape route. But RCT-31 did finally get through, complete with their hundreds of wounded, a point on which Faith was most insistent. He was presented with a posthumous Congressional Medal of Honor.
Improvisation on “Materna”
July 3, 2016
Photos: Lincoln Memorial
Lt. Col. Don C. Faith, Jr.
The Evensong was at the Chapel of Duke University, a place I once knew well. I had intended to listen to a few minutes of it as I worked in the office. That intention lasted through the organ preludes – two of them, one on each of the big instruments in that room. Then came the procession, to an organ improvisation. Watching the choristers come down the aisle was overwhelming; I was an emotional wreck, and they had not even begun to sing.
For many years, I took girls to this Course when it was at Agnes Scott College in Atlanta with services at St. Phillip’s Cathedral. We would load up in the church’s fifteen-passenger Blue Van, an old Ford that had seen its better days, and off we would go down the highway and over the mountains. Among all of these accomplished choristers (and directors), we felt like country bumpkins, for our little program back in Tennessee was not at the standard of places like St. Phillip’s, or some of the other churches who sent choristers. Many of the churches from those days are represented at this year’s course, though not the place where I served. One of the first acts of my successors was to dismantle the RSCM program and replace it with a more traditional graded-choir program. Nonetheless, three of my girls went to the next summer’s Atlanta course on their own, and sent me a photo. I still have it.
I learned a lot at this Course, and its companion Course for boys at Christ Church, Charlotte. It was in these weeks that I became a real Choirmaster, from the example of the music directors and choristers in their work together. I took copious notes – I still have these, too. I went home with my girls and boys and we all tried to live up to the standard of what we had experienced. Year by year, little by little, we became a better choir.
That remains my experience, and I think that of our choristers here in Iowa. And year by year, little by little, we are becoming a better choir.
Three weeks from now, it is our turn: Choral Evensong at First Presbyterian Church, Kirkwood on Saturday, July 23 and Mass at the Basilica of Saint Louis the next morning.
-----------
Tomorrow is July 4, Independence Day for this country. One year at the Atlanta Course, which has always been pretty much at this time of the summer, Independence Day was near the end of the week. There at Agnes Scott, we had an outdoor barbecue for the occasion. It was relaxed, one of those long summer evenings in Georgia which are like nothing else under the sun. The girls were carrying on like choristers do at every Course, having a great time. One of the teenagers was telling her friends how she had sung the National Anthem at an Atlanta Braves baseball game a few weeks before. She talked about how scared she was, vomiting in the bathroom shortly before she went out to sing, just her by herself in front of all those thousands of people, unaccompanied. “It went like this,” she said, and she started to sing…
O, say can you seeEveryone became quiet as they realized what was happening, some of us standing up, then all of us. She was no longer simply hanging out with her friends; it was suddenly Real. We all listened as she sang, her clear voice ringing through the courtyard.
By the dawn’s early light…
It is hard to be patriotic. Most of the time, for most of us, July 4 is little more than a day for a cookout and some fireworks, a day off from work. But there is something more to it. That evening in Atlanta, we all felt it.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?
Today we had a service of readings and hymns for Independence Day. I was not looking forward to it; coming back from a vacation, I ended up with one day’s preparation, and even for that, I had trouble dragging myself upstairs to the bench to do the work. Worst of all, I had committed to improvising a prelude.
Nothing would come. Partly, it was rustiness from the time off, but partly, my heart was not in it. I did not want to do any of these hymns; I did not want to even show up for church the next day.
But this morning found me on the bench, bright and early. After practicing the hymns, I worked at the organ for an hour or so on the improvisation, searching for ideas. People started to arrive, so I moved downstairs to the piano in the choir room. Still, I had nothing more than a vague plan: “America the beautiful” (which was the opening hymn) in G dorian/minor moving to major. But it was going a little better at the piano than it had at the organ.
It was not until I was upstairs, putting on my organ shoes, that I knew what to do; I went to the piano instead of the organ.
I began to play. And I began to think of what I had seen over the last fortnight -- the places I had visited out East, and in Springfield, Illinois… I thought of Mr. Lincoln, sitting in the telegraph office at the White House brooding over the casualty lists coming in from places like Chickamauga and the Wilderness and Cold Harbor. I thought of Mr. Lee, resting in his tomb down at Lexington. I thought of the soldiers at the Chosin Reservoir that December of 1950, the temperatures more than thirty below zero, outnumbered four to one as the “volunteers” from the People’s Liberation Army came at them in human wave assaults.
Most Americans have forgotten that war, which may be the finest and noblest thing that we have done as a nation, fighting alongside the South Koreans and our United Nations allies -- the British, the Canadians, the Australians, many others -- a brigade from Turkey played a key role at Chosin. But this day, I remembered. This was for them, and for Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Lee, and all those men of both sides at Chickamauga and the Wilderness and Cold Harbor, and all the others, right down to the present. They cared about this country, and we ought to care a little bit, too.
It is not a great recording; the microphone was positioned by the organ instead of underneath the piano as it usually is for the pieces that I post. But here it is.
I hope that it evidences one of the lessons I learned from RSCM Courses, more from the choristers than the directors and adults – connection. I heard it this afternoon in the singing of the choristers at the Duke Chapel, and I felt it this morning in the improvisation, a lot more than I expected. Connection does not always communicate to the listeners, but a lack of connection certainly will.
One of the photos on the YouTube track is obvious. The other will not be to most: It is Lt. Col. Don Carlos Faith, Jr., commanding the unit RCT-31 in the Chosin Reservoir campaign (after his superior officer had been killed). I like it that after being presented with a Silver Star on the battlefield after days of heavy fighting, he threw it into the snow in disgust upon being ordered to continue the offensive. And then he went on and kept his unit intact though surrounded by six Chinese regiments. He died at Hill 1221, leading an assault on a Chinese position blocking their only possible escape route. But RCT-31 did finally get through, complete with their hundreds of wounded, a point on which Faith was most insistent. He was presented with a posthumous Congressional Medal of Honor.
Improvisation on “Materna”
July 3, 2016
Photos: Lincoln Memorial
Lt. Col. Don C. Faith, Jr.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
A mighty Fortress, and an old Church
Here is my improvisation on “Ein feste Burg” (A mighty Fortress) from this morning’s service, with annotations to give an idea of what goes on as a person improvises.
First part: the Tune, G major. In the second time through (an octave lower, the second phrase of the tune, at the 53 second mark), I played a clunker of a note in the right hand accompaniment. To make it work, I continued in that “mode” by playing it again several more times. This is something that happens a lot in my playing, and I think in the work of most improvisers.
1’26” mark: Move to the Dominant (D major). Sometimes the best way is to just go there without transition, and that is what I do. Still going according to plan.
1’54” mark: Repeat the end of the tune as transition into:
2’19” mark: Contrasting section – tune in A dorian, slow. Most often when I am “learning” the tunes through the week, I try them out in various modes (like this); sometimes it is quite interesting and makes it into my Sunday playing.
3’48” mark: Development, building up with the goal of returning to Tonic.
4’08” mark: Uh-oh… I almost slip into “Sine Nomine” (For all the saints!) I get it turned back into the final phrase of the tune I am supposed to be playing.
4’24” mark: Tonic (G major). Tune in left-hand octaves, long notes. If this were an organ improvisation, it would be on the pedals with the big reeds, a toccata. In essence, this section is Species Counterpoint, four notes against one. I try to keep the right hand figuration related to the final phrase of the tune.
5’35” mark: Big arrival on the last note of the tune; the piece is done. Unfortunately, it is still two minutes before the hour. I carry on with cadential material to about the 6’00” mark. Still ninety seconds too early.
What to do? I cannot keep pounding away like this; I have already done it probably four bars beyond what was fitting. Nothing to do but taper it down.
6’15” mark: A key point in bringing it down; slow the motion by half, from eighth notes to quarters, combined with a ritard. The material is still based on the final phrase of the tune – which is one of the most memorable phrases in all of music, and essential to the character of the tune.
6”32” mark: the first Rest in the entire piece. About time! Most improvisations (definitely most of mine) are characterized by too much sound, not enough silence. For some reason, it is very hard to introduce Rests into the texture.
In retrospect, this passage could be viewed as a fulfillment of the slow section in A dorian, now in the home key of G major. This certainly was not a conscious thought at the time. I think that a lot of subconscious work goes into an improvisation, and it often leads to good results. One must have a plan – as I did, except for the coda from 6’00” onward – but there is always more to it than what one intended.
7’00” mark: Time to wrap it up – the B section, playfully (to escape from all that seriousness from about the 2 minute mark onward).
7’30” mark: Done! Final cadence (possibly too cute; I’m not sure if this works or not). Right on the stroke of 9:00 am, just like it is supposed to be.
------------------
Last Sunday, we had a Jazz Eucharist. One of our church members, John Rapson, is a jazzman and composer; he and two of his students played all of the music for the service. John wrote parts for me, as well. Here is one of the pieces from the service, “Maz-Tan Elaborated,” in honor of the percussionist, Maziar Aghvami. He is from Iran, a graduate student in (I think) engineering, and Rapson’s piece is based on a sample of Iranian music that Maziar sent him.
I post it here as an example of the pipe organ in a jazz context, where I think it can be very effective. Note that this YouTube clip is NOT public; it is “unlisted.” I am only the least of the players in the ensemble, and it is not for me to post it into a more public form. Listen to it from the link, but please don’t share it.
For much of the piece, I am doubling the saxophone, sometimes an octave higher. In one passage (starting at about the 3’30” mark), he and I trade off four-bar improvisations. This is common for jazz players; not so much for church organists.
The photos in the YouTube clip are of St. Thaddeus Church (Qara Kelisa), in Iran. Locals claim that the oldest part of the church was built in 68 A.D. by St. Thaddeus, one of the Twelve, and is the oldest surviving church structure in the world.
There is a stunning night-time photo of the church in the Wikipedia article that I did not see until I had made the clip; here it is.
First part: the Tune, G major. In the second time through (an octave lower, the second phrase of the tune, at the 53 second mark), I played a clunker of a note in the right hand accompaniment. To make it work, I continued in that “mode” by playing it again several more times. This is something that happens a lot in my playing, and I think in the work of most improvisers.
1’26” mark: Move to the Dominant (D major). Sometimes the best way is to just go there without transition, and that is what I do. Still going according to plan.
1’54” mark: Repeat the end of the tune as transition into:
2’19” mark: Contrasting section – tune in A dorian, slow. Most often when I am “learning” the tunes through the week, I try them out in various modes (like this); sometimes it is quite interesting and makes it into my Sunday playing.
3’48” mark: Development, building up with the goal of returning to Tonic.
4’08” mark: Uh-oh… I almost slip into “Sine Nomine” (For all the saints!) I get it turned back into the final phrase of the tune I am supposed to be playing.
4’24” mark: Tonic (G major). Tune in left-hand octaves, long notes. If this were an organ improvisation, it would be on the pedals with the big reeds, a toccata. In essence, this section is Species Counterpoint, four notes against one. I try to keep the right hand figuration related to the final phrase of the tune.
5’35” mark: Big arrival on the last note of the tune; the piece is done. Unfortunately, it is still two minutes before the hour. I carry on with cadential material to about the 6’00” mark. Still ninety seconds too early.
What to do? I cannot keep pounding away like this; I have already done it probably four bars beyond what was fitting. Nothing to do but taper it down.
6’15” mark: A key point in bringing it down; slow the motion by half, from eighth notes to quarters, combined with a ritard. The material is still based on the final phrase of the tune – which is one of the most memorable phrases in all of music, and essential to the character of the tune.
6”32” mark: the first Rest in the entire piece. About time! Most improvisations (definitely most of mine) are characterized by too much sound, not enough silence. For some reason, it is very hard to introduce Rests into the texture.
In retrospect, this passage could be viewed as a fulfillment of the slow section in A dorian, now in the home key of G major. This certainly was not a conscious thought at the time. I think that a lot of subconscious work goes into an improvisation, and it often leads to good results. One must have a plan – as I did, except for the coda from 6’00” onward – but there is always more to it than what one intended.
7’00” mark: Time to wrap it up – the B section, playfully (to escape from all that seriousness from about the 2 minute mark onward).
7’30” mark: Done! Final cadence (possibly too cute; I’m not sure if this works or not). Right on the stroke of 9:00 am, just like it is supposed to be.
------------------
Last Sunday, we had a Jazz Eucharist. One of our church members, John Rapson, is a jazzman and composer; he and two of his students played all of the music for the service. John wrote parts for me, as well. Here is one of the pieces from the service, “Maz-Tan Elaborated,” in honor of the percussionist, Maziar Aghvami. He is from Iran, a graduate student in (I think) engineering, and Rapson’s piece is based on a sample of Iranian music that Maziar sent him.
I post it here as an example of the pipe organ in a jazz context, where I think it can be very effective. Note that this YouTube clip is NOT public; it is “unlisted.” I am only the least of the players in the ensemble, and it is not for me to post it into a more public form. Listen to it from the link, but please don’t share it.
For much of the piece, I am doubling the saxophone, sometimes an octave higher. In one passage (starting at about the 3’30” mark), he and I trade off four-bar improvisations. This is common for jazz players; not so much for church organists.
The photos in the YouTube clip are of St. Thaddeus Church (Qara Kelisa), in Iran. Locals claim that the oldest part of the church was built in 68 A.D. by St. Thaddeus, one of the Twelve, and is the oldest surviving church structure in the world.
There is a stunning night-time photo of the church in the Wikipedia article that I did not see until I had made the clip; here it is.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Some thoughts on Counterpoint, and a website
There is a fine website devoted to organ improvisation: www.organimprovisation.com
It is curated by Glenn Osborne, a fellow graduate of Westminster Choir College, and (from his audio/video clips) highly skilled in this discipline.
His current blog essay (May 27, 2016) describes his visit to WCC for an alumni reunion and their impressive graduation ceremonies, with a suggestion – practicing improvisations with a metronome to ensure a steady beat and tempo, just as the organist at WCC used the metronome [in live performance!] to control tempo during the long entrance procession.
I need such work as this.
Osborne’s focus this spring has been Counterpoint. Like me, he places high value on the classic treatise Gradus ad Parnassum (J. J. Fux).
Often, he puts a twist on it, such as this (from April 11, 2016: “Introducing Dissonance,” with my comments)
One could spend a lot of time working in this manner, and it opens lots of related possibilities. As Mr. Osborne writes elsewhere, Fux works within the traditional church modes (Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian). But there is no reason the tools of Species Counterpoint could not be applied within any other harmonic context – Messiaen’s Modes of Limited Transposition, for example.
Later in this essay, Osborne writes:
From the Gradus (as quoted by Osborne in his essay for April 4, 2016):
The best we can hope for is to say: “I am making progress.”
It is curated by Glenn Osborne, a fellow graduate of Westminster Choir College, and (from his audio/video clips) highly skilled in this discipline.
His current blog essay (May 27, 2016) describes his visit to WCC for an alumni reunion and their impressive graduation ceremonies, with a suggestion – practicing improvisations with a metronome to ensure a steady beat and tempo, just as the organist at WCC used the metronome [in live performance!] to control tempo during the long entrance procession.
I need such work as this.
Osborne’s focus this spring has been Counterpoint. Like me, he places high value on the classic treatise Gradus ad Parnassum (J. J. Fux).
Often, he puts a twist on it, such as this (from April 11, 2016: “Introducing Dissonance,” with my comments)
I don’t necessarily remember where I got the idea, but one of the foundational ideas of the instruction I received in improvisation was that there are no wrong notes when improvising. [Cassi’s comment: I first heard this from Gerre Hancock, and in general it is true. But not always.] Why then do some notes sound wrong? … I believe the simple answer is that these wrong notes make a change in the level of dissonance. [Cassi again: this is an essential concept for making an improvisation sound like a unified piece – establish a level of dissonance, anything from pure Common Practice to late Romantic chromaticism, or any number of twentieth century models. Then maintain that style throughout the piece, using slight changes in the level of dissonance to help delineate the form. A chord or progression of chords that is outside of the given style will sound (and be) "wrong."]What a terrific idea! Treat any intervals, such as the seconds, fourths and sevenths that he mentions, as the “consonant” intervals, with thirds, sixths, octaves as “dissonance.” For practice purposes, of course: there are good reasons why in Real Music it is the other way around, with unisons, fifths, thirds and sixths as consonances. But such work would increase one’s control of dissonance in a non-traditional tonal context.
……………
The study of counterpoint introduces dissonance in a very systematic and controlled way. First species allows no dissonance. In the language of Palestrina, this limits us to thirds, fifths and sixths using notes within the mode. If we wish to develop a more modern sound, what if we did first species using only seconds, fourths, and sevenths?
One could spend a lot of time working in this manner, and it opens lots of related possibilities. As Mr. Osborne writes elsewhere, Fux works within the traditional church modes (Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian). But there is no reason the tools of Species Counterpoint could not be applied within any other harmonic context – Messiaen’s Modes of Limited Transposition, for example.
Later in this essay, Osborne writes:
In my first days as a student, I spent an entire year (or two) on two voice counterpoint working slowly through the levels of dissonance and species.So did I. I was not formally a student by then, but I was seeking a path and found the going equally slow. As I have written elsewhere, I never made it past two-voice counterpoint. I hope I can make further progress someday.
From the Gradus (as quoted by Osborne in his essay for April 4, 2016):
Aloysius [the fictional Teacher in the dialogues] – But are you not aware that this study is like an immense ocean, not to be exhausted even in the lifetime of a Nestor? You are indeed taking on a heavy task, a burden greater than Aetna.This is both a challenge and a joy. With music, as probably with any worthwhile human pursuit, there is no end to it. There is no point where one can look back and say “I have mastered this.”
The best we can hope for is to say: “I am making progress.”
"I don't have time" is, however, not a valid excuse, though I say it often enough to myself and others. The limits to our time are one of God's more subtle gifts; they force us to make choices. That, in turn, demonstrates what is important to us. If you will, God "puts us to the test" in this manner, to see how we will use the time He gives us. (from this essay)
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Bernie Sanders, revisited
It has been a long campaign.
When Senator Sanders announced his bid for the Presidency more than a year ago, I wrote this:
The Sanders campaign has sent daily e-mails to their financial supporters – the millions of people who have given small contributions, on average less than $30. From today’s e-mail, following last night’s results:
Our state, Iowa, had a primary election yesterday. Not for president -- that was all done at the Caucuses -- but for the U.S. Senate and Congressional seats, and local offices. For the three open seats on the county Board of Supervisors, there was a “Sanders slate” – three candidates who had been Sanders precinct captains in February. Two of them were elected as the Democratic nominees.
It is a start.
I do hereby pledge that I will never vote for Hillary Clinton.
Not even if Sanders calls on his supporters to do so.
Not even if my vote were the deciding vote that gave the election to Mr. Trump.
Mr. Trump strikes a responsive chord in me, with his scorn for political correctness and establishment politics. But I do not sense that this responsive chord is of the Spirit; quite otherwise, when one considers some of his views.
I will consider voting for the Green Party candidate, Jill Stein. She appears to be a good and honorable person, and my political views align with the Greens, more so than with the Democrats (especially as they are nowadays).
Most likely, I will write in “Bernie Sanders.”
I think a lot of people will do that.
I was bitterly angry this morning as I read the news reports, especially Sanders’ loss in California, and the gloating commentaries in the mainstream media. A lot of Sanders supporters are angry. Many of them were already alienated from the political process, but saw this as one last chance to have a voice in the manner in which America is governed.
And then I looked across to the photo of Robert E. Lee that is on my desk, a photo taken after he had suffered a defeat far worse and more final.
Wednesday morning is one of the times appointed for the Great Litany. Thus, I sang it at the end of Matins, as is my custom. This day, I appended the Supplication (BCP p. 154), which is “for use… especially in times of war, or of national anxiety, or of disaster.”
I do not think that this is going to end well.
When Senator Sanders announced his bid for the Presidency more than a year ago, I wrote this:
I have, once or twice, spoken well of former senator H. Clinton in these pages. In my opinion, she did good work as secretary of state [I would no longer characterize what she did to the people of Libya and Syria as "good work"] and in some of the other gigs on her resume (the United Nations, U.S. Senate, First Lady). And there was a time when I really liked her husband. I voted for him twice, with enthusiasm.It is not, in truth, altogether “done.” Ms. Clinton still needs all of her “superdelegates” to fulfill their pledges to vote for her at the Democratic Convention next month, for without them – that is, the smug, comfortable political establishment – she does not have enough delegates to be nominated. I would be surprised if Senator Sanders can get any of them to come over to his side.
But since those days, in my opinion Bill and Hillary have sold out to the Wall Street bankers. There is probably not a better political mind on this earth than Bill C.'s, and perhaps the two of them recognize that H. cannot be elected without large piles of corporate money.
Since announcing her candidacy, Hillary has sounded like a progressive. In my humble opinion, she is lying. As president, she will be no more progressive than President Obama. For all his talk of "hope" and "change," he likewise has been a subservient tool of Wall Street.
But Bernie Sanders? He is the real thing.
The Sanders campaign has sent daily e-mails to their financial supporters – the millions of people who have given small contributions, on average less than $30. From today’s e-mail, following last night’s results:
You ask anyone running for office what they hate most about it, and I guarantee that virtually every single candidate will say that it's raising money.I have supported some of these candidates with small donations, alongside my financial support for Bernie Sanders. I think that this may be the direction that Sanders wants to take the progressive movement that he has kickstarted.
The way that you have helped me run for president is absolutely unprecedented. I get to talk to voters, while my opponent has to talk to donors.
The candidates we're endorsing for other races are seeing similar results. We funded state legislative candidates' entire campaigns through one email. We completely transformed several congressional races because of your generosity….
What we are proving… is that it is possible to take back our country from the billionaire class. It is possible to stop millionaires and billionaires from buying our democracy. And we can do it $27 at a time.
Our state, Iowa, had a primary election yesterday. Not for president -- that was all done at the Caucuses -- but for the U.S. Senate and Congressional seats, and local offices. For the three open seats on the county Board of Supervisors, there was a “Sanders slate” – three candidates who had been Sanders precinct captains in February. Two of them were elected as the Democratic nominees.
It is a start.
I do hereby pledge that I will never vote for Hillary Clinton.
Not even if Sanders calls on his supporters to do so.
Not even if my vote were the deciding vote that gave the election to Mr. Trump.
Mr. Trump strikes a responsive chord in me, with his scorn for political correctness and establishment politics. But I do not sense that this responsive chord is of the Spirit; quite otherwise, when one considers some of his views.
I will consider voting for the Green Party candidate, Jill Stein. She appears to be a good and honorable person, and my political views align with the Greens, more so than with the Democrats (especially as they are nowadays).
Most likely, I will write in “Bernie Sanders.”
I think a lot of people will do that.
I was bitterly angry this morning as I read the news reports, especially Sanders’ loss in California, and the gloating commentaries in the mainstream media. A lot of Sanders supporters are angry. Many of them were already alienated from the political process, but saw this as one last chance to have a voice in the manner in which America is governed.
And then I looked across to the photo of Robert E. Lee that is on my desk, a photo taken after he had suffered a defeat far worse and more final.
I think it is the duty of every citizen, in the present condition of the Country, to do all in his power to aid in the restoration of peace and harmony. It is particularly incumbent upon those charged with the instruction of the young to set them an example. (from a letter to the trustees of Washington College, where Mr. Lee was serving as President after the War)And I looked at a quote on a magnet attached to my filing cabinet, from another great leader whose cause fell to defeat and whose people continue to suffer from it:
Let us put our minds together and see what life we can make for our children (Sitting Bull, 1877)
Wednesday morning is one of the times appointed for the Great Litany. Thus, I sang it at the end of Matins, as is my custom. This day, I appended the Supplication (BCP p. 154), which is “for use… especially in times of war, or of national anxiety, or of disaster.”
I do not think that this is going to end well.
We humbly beseech thee, O Father, mercifully to look upon our infirmities; and, for the glory of thy Name, turn from us all those evils that we most justly have deserved; and grant that in all our troubles we may put our whole trust and confidence in thy mercy, and evermore serve thee in holiness and pureness of living, to thy honor and glory; through our only Mediator and Advocate, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP p. 155)
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
The Visitation
The Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary: May 31, 2016
I was prepared to write an Imaginary Sermon, having read the Lessons for the Eucharist as appointed in the Book of Common Prayer. But I saw that they have been changed for the Revised Common Lectionary. The Gospel remains the same, fortunately; so does Psalm 113. But the other lessons were better in the old version.
Old Version (BCP):
Zephaniah 3:14-18a
Psalm 113 or Canticle 9
Colossians 3:12-17
Luke 1:39-49
New Version (RCL):
I Samuel 2:1-10
Psalm 113
Romans 12:9-16b
Luke 1:39-49
Thus, I will content myself with one observation: On this most beautiful of feasts, “how can we keep from singing?” St. Paul tells us so in the lesson from Colossians: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.”
The Word dwelt within Our Lady and was immediately recognized by John the Baptist, who was as yet in his mother’s womb. And, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, the Word dwells within us, individually and as Holy Mother Church, manifesting itself in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs: “How can we keep from singing?”
Why do I consider this day to be so beautiful, so important?
From the beginning, there have been long stretches of time where the way is hard, a wilderness without food or water. Israel was in such a time when the events of the first chapter of Luke took place.
And here. Our Lady and Elizabeth.
“How can we keep from singing?” Mary could not: she spoke the Song that has become our song, the song of the Church every evening. “My soul doth magnify the Lord…” It is not without reason that the most beautiful chants of the plainsong repertoire are reserved for the Feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Missa Marialis chants of the Ordinary of the Mass (Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei) among them.
The path would again be hard and narrow. It led Mary’s Son into the desert, and beyond that to the Cross, where even He would cry out “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
But still, even now, there are moments when we see clearly.
How can we keep from singing?
I was prepared to write an Imaginary Sermon, having read the Lessons for the Eucharist as appointed in the Book of Common Prayer. But I saw that they have been changed for the Revised Common Lectionary. The Gospel remains the same, fortunately; so does Psalm 113. But the other lessons were better in the old version.
Old Version (BCP):
Zephaniah 3:14-18a
Psalm 113 or Canticle 9
Colossians 3:12-17
Luke 1:39-49
New Version (RCL):
I Samuel 2:1-10
Psalm 113
Romans 12:9-16b
Luke 1:39-49
Thus, I will content myself with one observation: On this most beautiful of feasts, “how can we keep from singing?” St. Paul tells us so in the lesson from Colossians: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.”
The Word dwelt within Our Lady and was immediately recognized by John the Baptist, who was as yet in his mother’s womb. And, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, the Word dwells within us, individually and as Holy Mother Church, manifesting itself in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs: “How can we keep from singing?”
Ave Maria, gratia plena:As ever, the Song does not originate from us. It is He that sings over us, as we read in the lesson from Zephaniah:
Dominus tecum.
The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing.
Why do I consider this day to be so beautiful, so important?
From the beginning, there have been long stretches of time where the way is hard, a wilderness without food or water. Israel was in such a time when the events of the first chapter of Luke took place.
There are no signs for us to see;When least expected, the Word of the LORD breaks forth, and for a moment we see clearly. Jacob in his dream at Bethel, a stone for his pillow. Moses at the burning bush. The people at the Red Sea, when they crossed on dry ground. Elijah when the fire came from heaven and consumed the offering. Isaiah in the year that King Uzziah died.
there is no prophet left;
there is not one among us who knows how long (Psalm 74:8)
And here. Our Lady and Elizabeth.
“How can we keep from singing?” Mary could not: she spoke the Song that has become our song, the song of the Church every evening. “My soul doth magnify the Lord…” It is not without reason that the most beautiful chants of the plainsong repertoire are reserved for the Feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Missa Marialis chants of the Ordinary of the Mass (Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei) among them.
The path would again be hard and narrow. It led Mary’s Son into the desert, and beyond that to the Cross, where even He would cry out “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”
But still, even now, there are moments when we see clearly.
How can we keep from singing?
Sunday, May 29, 2016
endings and beginnings
The last spring recital is finished. The accompanist came downstairs to shake my hand and wish me a good summer. He has been a student here in the jazz department and in classical piano, playing Rachmaninoff and Prokofieff and Scriabin well into the night upstairs on the good Steinway, year after year. This fall, he will be with the others in the new music building, not here.
The teacher was a classical saxophonist in the doctoral program; he graduated a few years ago, after years of the saxophone quartet that he headed rehearsing here at the church. This afternoon’s event was his spring studio recital. After the students had left and I had locked the doors, he got out his own instrument and played in the church. I stood outside in the courtyard, singing Evensong with the fireflies, the light streaming through the stained glass from inside the church. The last daylight faded, the first stars appeared.
Eventually, he found me and, like the pianist, shook my hand and thanked me. “This place is so beautiful,” he said, looking back at the church. “There isn’t another acoustic like this anywhere around.”
Ascension, Whitsunday, Trinity Sunday – all past. The choirs are on summer holiday, after one final gathering this past Wednesday. This week, since Trinity, remained full, thanks to yesterday’s wedding. This afternoon, I finished the 2015-16 planning cycle, pencilling the last voluntaries into my planning book, ordering the choral music for the youth choir’s fall season.
One of our adult choristers has moved to Virginia; he was back today, here for the weekend to load his possessions into a U-Haul. He has joined the choir of a big-time Episcopal church. And he said “the choir out there is larger. But we sing just as well as they do, and better on the Anglican chant.”
I resist the thought that somehow, this choir in this Midwestern town could possibly become a “big-time” program, the sort of place that I have always looked to for an example of how to Do It Right. We don’t have the paid singers that a major league choir would have; we have some choristers who would not pass an audition. We have an overworked organist/director who cannot devote enough time to either part of his job. The youth choir has just one rehearsal a week when all the articles in the journals say that you must have at least two, and that they must sing for church every Sunday. And half of our choristers aren’t even there for the whole rehearsal – they have other activities, and I often think that choir comes last on their list.
I cannot see how we could be an example to anyone; there must be better examples wherever one might want to find them. But here we are. If nothing else, we might be an example of working within what is possible, and allowing the music of this place to develop in its own direction – that would include my own work as an organist and pianist. I never expected that I would be improvising piano preludes every Sunday, and finding it one of the most challenging and satisfying parts of my work.
And I never dared hope that I could have a rehearsal like this past Wednesday. The choristers who are going to this summer’s RSCM course gathered for an afternoon read-through of the music. They sailed through it all, finding none of it particularly difficult. Five of them: three teen girls, a changing-voice alto (maybe; he might still be a second treble in July), a young tenor. The alto said “After the Handel Amen, this stuff isn’t so hard.” That was not at all to look down on the course music; they loved it, and recognized what it would take to prepare it. But they were not intimidated by it.
They refused to take a break; they wanted to keep on singing, seeing the time slip away. And they asked for another rehearsal.
The rehearsal ended, and I walked with friends over to the Mill (the local venue for Good Music), where youth choir families and some of the adult choir were gathering for an end-of-year celebration, eating and drinking and listening to the local bluegrass band. Some of the young choristers took to the dance floor alongside the elderly couples, one lady (probably in her eighties) in her red spangled blouse that has probably been her dancing outfit for fifty years, she and her husband having as much fun as the children. We stayed for hours, sitting and talking and enjoying the evening. I love these people; they are like family to me.
Cantare amantis est.
------------
The selection of music for upcoming weeks and months is the first part of a trinity, a “sub-creation” that is in its limited way a mirror, an icon of the Maker of all things in whose image we are made. I quoted this from Dorothy Sayers just a few weeks ago, after having noted it here:
The selection of music is the Creative Idea. And most years, there are a few points where the insight of what will work on a given Sunday overwhelms me, every bit as much as it actual performance might.
For today’s work, it was the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year A: December 18, 2016. Chapter one of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, with supporting lessons from Isaiah and Romans, and Psalm 80. I needed something for the youth choir to sing that day, for that is the one day in Advent that will work for their schedule. I was thinking small, what with Christmas Eve around the corner – until it hit me: “O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion…”
They could sing the alto “solo.” I took it to the piano and sang it through myself; some of it is a little low for trebles, but I am guessing that we will have boys for whom this will be ideal, and with them singing up in the alto/falsetto range alongside the girls and treble boys, it will be a beautiful and unique sound, a bit like the male alto in the linked recording. And then the adults can join them on the SATB section at the end.
It will be just right, exactly what needs to be said at that point in the liturgy, in the year, and in the development of these choirs and the life of this parish. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I wrote it into the planning calendar, “beholding the whole work complete at once.”
It is a Gift to live in the Creative Idea for an afternoon, most of it working with organ voluntaries (for the adult schedule, hymnody, and psalmody are already in place; all that remained were the voluntaries and the youth choir). There are other moments where the Idea was overwhelming: the Stanford Te Deum in B flat with the adults for the Sunday in October when we have Choral Matins, the youth choir in September singing Alice Parker’s arrangement of “Be thou my vision” with (I hope) the string players drawn from the choir itself. And quite a few things in the organ music.
Now I, and all of us, will have to learn these things. It will take work, lots of it, “with sweat and passion, being incarnate in the bonds of matter. And this is the image of the Word.”
And then the Creative Power, the effect of this music in the hearts of those who hear it, as well as those who sing it.
The teacher was a classical saxophonist in the doctoral program; he graduated a few years ago, after years of the saxophone quartet that he headed rehearsing here at the church. This afternoon’s event was his spring studio recital. After the students had left and I had locked the doors, he got out his own instrument and played in the church. I stood outside in the courtyard, singing Evensong with the fireflies, the light streaming through the stained glass from inside the church. The last daylight faded, the first stars appeared.
Eventually, he found me and, like the pianist, shook my hand and thanked me. “This place is so beautiful,” he said, looking back at the church. “There isn’t another acoustic like this anywhere around.”
Ascension, Whitsunday, Trinity Sunday – all past. The choirs are on summer holiday, after one final gathering this past Wednesday. This week, since Trinity, remained full, thanks to yesterday’s wedding. This afternoon, I finished the 2015-16 planning cycle, pencilling the last voluntaries into my planning book, ordering the choral music for the youth choir’s fall season.
One of our adult choristers has moved to Virginia; he was back today, here for the weekend to load his possessions into a U-Haul. He has joined the choir of a big-time Episcopal church. And he said “the choir out there is larger. But we sing just as well as they do, and better on the Anglican chant.”
I resist the thought that somehow, this choir in this Midwestern town could possibly become a “big-time” program, the sort of place that I have always looked to for an example of how to Do It Right. We don’t have the paid singers that a major league choir would have; we have some choristers who would not pass an audition. We have an overworked organist/director who cannot devote enough time to either part of his job. The youth choir has just one rehearsal a week when all the articles in the journals say that you must have at least two, and that they must sing for church every Sunday. And half of our choristers aren’t even there for the whole rehearsal – they have other activities, and I often think that choir comes last on their list.
I cannot see how we could be an example to anyone; there must be better examples wherever one might want to find them. But here we are. If nothing else, we might be an example of working within what is possible, and allowing the music of this place to develop in its own direction – that would include my own work as an organist and pianist. I never expected that I would be improvising piano preludes every Sunday, and finding it one of the most challenging and satisfying parts of my work.
And I never dared hope that I could have a rehearsal like this past Wednesday. The choristers who are going to this summer’s RSCM course gathered for an afternoon read-through of the music. They sailed through it all, finding none of it particularly difficult. Five of them: three teen girls, a changing-voice alto (maybe; he might still be a second treble in July), a young tenor. The alto said “After the Handel Amen, this stuff isn’t so hard.” That was not at all to look down on the course music; they loved it, and recognized what it would take to prepare it. But they were not intimidated by it.
They refused to take a break; they wanted to keep on singing, seeing the time slip away. And they asked for another rehearsal.
The rehearsal ended, and I walked with friends over to the Mill (the local venue for Good Music), where youth choir families and some of the adult choir were gathering for an end-of-year celebration, eating and drinking and listening to the local bluegrass band. Some of the young choristers took to the dance floor alongside the elderly couples, one lady (probably in her eighties) in her red spangled blouse that has probably been her dancing outfit for fifty years, she and her husband having as much fun as the children. We stayed for hours, sitting and talking and enjoying the evening. I love these people; they are like family to me.
Cantare amantis est.
------------
The selection of music for upcoming weeks and months is the first part of a trinity, a “sub-creation” that is in its limited way a mirror, an icon of the Maker of all things in whose image we are made. I quoted this from Dorothy Sayers just a few weeks ago, after having noted it here:
For every work [or act] of creation is threefold, an earthly trinity to match the heavenly.
First [not in time, but merely in order of enumeration] there is the Creative Idea, passionless, timeless, beholding the whole work complete at once, the end in the beginning: and this is the image of the Father.
Second, there is the Creative Energy [or Activity] begotten of that idea, working in time from the beginning to the end, with sweat and passion, being incarnate in the bonds of matter: and this is the image of the Word.
Third, there is the Creative Power, the meaning of the work and its response in the lively soul: and this is the image of the indwelling Spirit.
And these three are one, each equally in itself the whole work, whereof none can exist without other: and this is the image of the Trinity.
The selection of music is the Creative Idea. And most years, there are a few points where the insight of what will work on a given Sunday overwhelms me, every bit as much as it actual performance might.
For today’s work, it was the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year A: December 18, 2016. Chapter one of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, with supporting lessons from Isaiah and Romans, and Psalm 80. I needed something for the youth choir to sing that day, for that is the one day in Advent that will work for their schedule. I was thinking small, what with Christmas Eve around the corner – until it hit me: “O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion…”
They could sing the alto “solo.” I took it to the piano and sang it through myself; some of it is a little low for trebles, but I am guessing that we will have boys for whom this will be ideal, and with them singing up in the alto/falsetto range alongside the girls and treble boys, it will be a beautiful and unique sound, a bit like the male alto in the linked recording. And then the adults can join them on the SATB section at the end.
It will be just right, exactly what needs to be said at that point in the liturgy, in the year, and in the development of these choirs and the life of this parish. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I wrote it into the planning calendar, “beholding the whole work complete at once.”
Arise, shine, for thy light is come.
And the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
It is a Gift to live in the Creative Idea for an afternoon, most of it working with organ voluntaries (for the adult schedule, hymnody, and psalmody are already in place; all that remained were the voluntaries and the youth choir). There are other moments where the Idea was overwhelming: the Stanford Te Deum in B flat with the adults for the Sunday in October when we have Choral Matins, the youth choir in September singing Alice Parker’s arrangement of “Be thou my vision” with (I hope) the string players drawn from the choir itself. And quite a few things in the organ music.
Now I, and all of us, will have to learn these things. It will take work, lots of it, “with sweat and passion, being incarnate in the bonds of matter. And this is the image of the Word.”
And then the Creative Power, the effect of this music in the hearts of those who hear it, as well as those who sing it.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
A chance encounter
This morning at about 6:45, I happened by a janitor who was mopping the concrete floor of the parking garage stairwell. He was whistling, and clearly enjoying his work.
It was the hymn tune Rockingham. In the Episcopal book, it is the tune for "When I survey the wondrous cross" plus a few other texts.
I didn't comment beyond wishing him a good day, because I didn't want to embarrass him. But it cheered my soul to know beyond any doubt, by his delight in the morning and by this tune that only a Christian would know, that he is my brother in Christ, doing his work as I hope that I can do mine today.
It was the hymn tune Rockingham. In the Episcopal book, it is the tune for "When I survey the wondrous cross" plus a few other texts.
I didn't comment beyond wishing him a good day, because I didn't want to embarrass him. But it cheered my soul to know beyond any doubt, by his delight in the morning and by this tune that only a Christian would know, that he is my brother in Christ, doing his work as I hope that I can do mine today.
Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven. (St. Matthew 5:14-16)
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Make your prayer and music one
Make your prayer and music one!
Lift your songs of faith as signs
That this world has not undone
Heaven’s wonderful designs.
Alleluia.
(Thomas H. Troeger, copyright Oxford Univ. Press)
Here are two recordings from today; both are from our 9:00 “middle” service, which today included the Youth Choir.
Improvisation for the Sunday after the Ascension.
This is based on “Hail the day that sees him rise” (Llanfair) and “Make your prayer and music one” (tune: “Faithful Songs” by Carol Doran), two of the songs from the service.
I had a hard time getting to “know” the Doran tune; it took several days before I had any ideas as to how to work with it, other than a straight play-through as the middle part of an A-B-A form. It was only this morning in my early practice that I found a way forward by using fragments of the tune, especially the head motive. This is a good approach for improvising on a complex tune, rather than quoting the entire thing, and it led me to likewise base the A section on the head motive of Llanfair rather than the full tune. I do give it a proper play-through in the return section.
Hymn: Make your prayer and music one
This is a text on Acts 16:25, the central portion of this morning’s First Lesson at the Eucharist – Paul and Silas at Philippi, where they find themselves beaten, bleeding, and locked up in the innermost cell of the prison. And at midnight, they pray and sing hymns.
I love this text, and this tune. With due respect to the copyright on it, here is the final stanza:
Sing as Paul and Silas sang:We sang it at both the 9:00 and 11:00 services. The version at 11:00 was stronger, but upon consideration, I posted the 9:00 version. It is more tentative at first, but grows in strength as the people learn it.
Let no circling dark or wall
Muffle what their praises rang:
Jesus Christ is Lord of all.
Alleluia.
One of the teen boys made fun of this text when we began work on it, and I was not sure he was on board with it until the singing of it in the liturgy – his tenor voice can be heard, stronger and stronger as the hymn goes by. This pleases me very much.
There is one other recording of this hymn on YouTube, taken from a professional CD released by the choir of Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth, TX, one of the finest music programs in the country.
It is of course far more polished than our parish youth choir and a congregation learning the tune as they go, and there is some very good organ playing on it (and they have quite an instrument, a Casavant of 191 ranks, the largest pipe organ in Texas and the largest that Casavant has built anywhere).
But I like our version better. It is more organic, more real.
I have mentioned the composer of this tune, Carol Doran, in another Music Box essay. I met her quite a few years ago - in fact, she played this very hymn on our little Pilcher at Trinity when she was here giving a workshop at the university. And I spoke with her again at the Hymn Society conference in Richmond, three years ago:
Carol Doran collaborated as a musician with the author Thomas Troeger on several volumes of hymns in the 1980's and 90's; she was the organist for the first night's hymn festival. I learned in conversing with her over lunch that her path moved on from seminary teaching to now, in her old age, teaching music in a ghetto middle school. It is a task of little account to the powerful, this teaching of children whom they have already written off as losers, part of Mitt Romney's 47 percent. It is a thing no larger than a mustard seed.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Some thoughts on poverty
In this video, Bernie Sanders speaks at a food bank in Kimball, West Virginia. That is in McDowell County, the next county over from where I was raised. It is a place that I have always loved, with a unique way of life; it is the home place of one of my best friends. And it is the poorest county in West Virginia, which in turn is one of the poorest states. The life expectancy for men is the lowest of any county in the U.S., thirteen years less than the national average; women’s life expectancy is the second-lowest. Only about six percent of the people have a college degree. About half of the children live in poverty. Per-capita income is about $12,000/year. You can read more about it in Wikipedia.
As recently as the 1950’s, McDowell County was prosperous. It is at the center of the coalfields, and times were good. It has been downhill ever since, as the mining companies pulled out. Nowadays, the largest private employer in the county was the Wal-Mart store in Big Four (near the county seat, Welch). That is, it used to be: the store (the only Wal-Mart in the county) closed in January 2016.
Senator Sanders has much to say, but he gives much of the time to local activists, who talk about the challenges, and what can be done to make things better. At one point near the end, he says that he loves doing this sort of event. At root, it is community organizing. Given the resume that Mr. Obama laid before us, we thought that we were electing a community organizer in 2008 and 2012. It did not turn out that way.
It is clear that Bernie comes from a different place; he cares about the community, this great community that stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and he is putting a lot of effort into trying to get us organized. I don't think he would care one bit whether he became President or not, if there were any other way to change things.
It means much to me that Senator Sanders and his wife took the time to come to Kimball, West Virginia. And, in the middle of a political campaign when he needs to be in twenty places at once, spend a couple of hours there at a food bank. And listen to what’s going on in that little town, in that little county with about twenty thousand people – after his speech, he took questions for better than forty-five minutes. Listen to this too, if you can spare the time: the questions and discussion are just as good as the speech.
Hillary Clinton is not going to do this. Donald Trump is not going to do this.
As recently as the 1950’s, McDowell County was prosperous. It is at the center of the coalfields, and times were good. It has been downhill ever since, as the mining companies pulled out. Nowadays, the largest private employer in the county was the Wal-Mart store in Big Four (near the county seat, Welch). That is, it used to be: the store (the only Wal-Mart in the county) closed in January 2016.
Senator Sanders has much to say, but he gives much of the time to local activists, who talk about the challenges, and what can be done to make things better. At one point near the end, he says that he loves doing this sort of event. At root, it is community organizing. Given the resume that Mr. Obama laid before us, we thought that we were electing a community organizer in 2008 and 2012. It did not turn out that way.
It is clear that Bernie comes from a different place; he cares about the community, this great community that stretches from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and he is putting a lot of effort into trying to get us organized. I don't think he would care one bit whether he became President or not, if there were any other way to change things.
It means much to me that Senator Sanders and his wife took the time to come to Kimball, West Virginia. And, in the middle of a political campaign when he needs to be in twenty places at once, spend a couple of hours there at a food bank. And listen to what’s going on in that little town, in that little county with about twenty thousand people – after his speech, he took questions for better than forty-five minutes. Listen to this too, if you can spare the time: the questions and discussion are just as good as the speech.
Hillary Clinton is not going to do this. Donald Trump is not going to do this.
We are not a poor country. We are the richest country on earth. The problem is, the policies that take place in Washington every single day are policies that are designed to help wealthy campaign contributors. People who go to dinners for $350,000 a couple. Anybody here been to dinner lately for $350,000? Anyone here put a million dollars into a Super-PAC lately? That’s another world. But that’s the world of Wall Street and big-money interests who make huge campaign contributions and then hold the people they give the contributions to accountable to work for them. (Sen. Sanders, about 37 minutes into the video)
The only way that change takes place, people come together, stand up, fight back, and say that the status quo is not acceptable. And I think that’s the moment we’re in right now.
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